Inficio
by Hypnotic Prism
Summary: A spate of killings tear across town. Bodies are found floating in the river, riveted in corrosive poison. Inficio... The race to unravel the identity of the killer may be in the name...
1. Witch

**Disclaimer: **(holds up signboard) I wish I owned God Child. But I don't. So I only drool over the manga.

**Author's Notes: **Hello, I'm Hypnotic Prism. This is my first God Child fanfic. I am DESPERATELY praying you will like it. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be ignored. And please read and review—reviews make me very happy. :)

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_**Inficio**_

_God Child Fanfiction_

_By: Hypnotic Prism_

* * *

In the lifeless branches of the forest near the riverbank, the sunbeams seemed to bend its way through to cast their solemn early glimmers into the waking world, still wreathed in mist, still blanketed by the dew. Dawn in this part of the town was never as well-thought off as in the other parts. Everything here was always damp, and cold. 

A young boy sleepily trudged from a small settlement of woodcutters' homes nearby, carrying a pail. His mother had told him to fetch water for cooking breakfast that day. Grumbling and still rubbing his eyes, he walked with his shoes on the wrong feet down the damp soil path to the direction of the river, the wooden pail dragging behind him and carving a trail on the wet earth.

The sound of the river could be heard now, although it could not be so easily seen due to the mist in the wood. The boy glanced around for a bit, not as perturbed as he usually would be, his senses still fogged by sleep. There was a strange scent in the air.

Sighing, he squatted at the riverbank and lifelessly dipped the pail in, eyes still half closed and drowsy. He leaned an elbow onto his knee, and nearly nodded off if the pail hadn't nearly gotten tugged away from him. Jerking awake, he groggily opened his eyes and pulled the pail up.

He stared.

The pail was not a new one—it was old, and wood. The metal on it had not rusted much, though. So he could not understand as to why the water contained within was stained red. Something was floating on the surface, and he gingerly picked it out and held it up. It was strands of gold.

"…hair?" he muttered to himself, puzzled.

The sunlight came through the trees. The mist lifted and dissipated, as though fleeing the warmth. And the river revealed itself to the boy.

In the dark water rushing past, sharp rocks protruded like many little gray islands around which the water raced past. On one of the rocks was hooked a pale, vein-ridden arm in a ripped sleeve. The boy dropped his pail with a clank in horror. The face of the blond youth that floated on the river—glassy eyes bloodshot, open but unseeing, his body colorless, and every vein on his body emphasized like so many dark roots under the translucent skin nearly bursting in saturation of the water, and the entire jaw all the way to his neck, rotted black with flesh tearing away in the water.

The boy raced back, screaming. The body continued to float in the water. And from a distance, watching in the shadow of the trees, a figure, contented, walked away.

* * *

"Brother!" 

The voice of a young girl came ringing down the halls of the manor, accompanied by running feet. "Brother! You would never believe it! Brother—oh, where are you?"

From the study, a young man looking into a microscope sighed and glanced up slightly. "You make too much noise sometimes, Merry…" he looked yup and called, "I'm in here, Merryweather! It's about time you returned—I had been starting to wonder."

At that instant, a little girl with piles of long blonde hair burst into the room, her face flushed with excitement. Her entrance was accompanied by the smell of the outdoors—of sunshine and flowers and earth—and something else that made her half brother look up from his work.

"I went out on the carriage to-day—I wanted to get a new box to put in those little pearls and my cards," she said excitedly. She held out on one small hand a silver box with delicate engraving. "Isn't it lovely? But oh, that wasn't what I wanted to tell you."

But her brother's green-gold eyes were not looking at the box—they were staring at the flowers that Merry gripped in the other hand, looking freshly picked, and highly unusual. _I've only seen those in journals…never around these parts…_ he added in wonder to himself. The resplendent colors of some mushrooms and blossoms, some laden with seeds, some with petals curling like feathers. They were not ordinary garden plants. And extraordinary things were things Cain Hargreaves would know about.

He looked up at her. "Merry—those flowers—where did you get them?"

The younger of the sibling pair looked irked. "I was getting to that before you interrupted."

And her brother sighed. "Sorry. Go on."

"After I got my little box, the carriage hit a bump in the road and the wheel had to be fixed. So the driver took it to this place a little way off from town—I'd never been there before, but it was lovely, brother, it really was!" her little face was flushed and alight. "There was a quaint little cottage by itself under a big willow and it had the oddest garden."

"I assume that's where you got those? You should've asked before you picked the flowers."

"Of course I did! Why, Julianna gave them to me?"

He blinked. "Julianna?"

"She's the one who lives in the cottage," Merry responded happily. "She lives by herself, but you know what?" and here she dropped her voice to a dramatic whisper and leaned closer to her nearly indifferent brother, "they say—she's a witch!"

Cain stared at her, disbelieving. "Who is 'they'?"

"The people in town. Why—don't you know? You really should get out more."

Ignoring the comment, Cain asked, although he knew the answer, "And why do they say she is?"

"They said it was because she lives on her own and at night strange sounds come from her house," Merryweather affected a scary tone that only made her brother resist to smile. "Strange smells come around, too! They see her brewing something in a large pot!"

"And…you like this?"

"Of course!" she said happily. "After all—they used to say I'm a witch too, because I'm psychic! Isn't that wonderful? Now there's two of us!"

"Wonders never cease…" Cain said blandly to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Merry… Why did she give you those flowers?" he plucked one blossom off a stem.

Merry laughs. "She said they're potion herbs. I can use them to cast all sorts of spells on people! She let me take this much because she has about a hundred more in her garden. Mind you—it's not really that big, her place, but it sure is unusual. Why when I went there…"

As his sister continued to prattle on, Cain stared at the blossom in his hand. He recognized it and many others in Merry's bunch. It was called acelis, and it was one of the more 'common' flowers among the list of unusual herbs. Merry most likely thought this was a fun game, but the woman who gave her the flowers certainly didn't. Anyone who knew anything about brewing herbs for unusual reasons would know that acelis was a flower that can induce nearly instantaneous trance if powdered and inhaled.

Among the other flowers were nightshade, belladonna, an African herb and others that Cain remembered seeing in his research books. The last two were poison-making herbs, while nightshade and belladonna were indeed heard of in the witch world as common.

_Certainly an odd garden…and Merry said there were hundreds of these? That person…is she merely some eccentric or is she as they said she was? A witch? If so…then the rumors…_

"Are you listening, brother?"

Cain snapped out of his fantasy with a question. "What does she do for a living—this…Julianna?"

"Be a witch," she shrugged.

"What?"

Merryweather sat on the ground, tucking her feet under her. "Some people come to her and ask for things. They believe she's a witch so they ask for herbs. Mostly to help sick people. But some of them were looking for spells and such things. Julianna doesn't say yes to them very often though. And she's always brewing something in a big black pot."

Cain blinked and shook his head, patting her heavily on the head, making her blink. "Huh?"

"You have a very hyperactive imagination," he told her.

"It's all true!"

"I'm sure it is. But I've also known you to have given me the most gruesome mother goose rhymes. Go along and play in our normal garden."

Merryweather got up and stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll make a potion—you'll see."

"Be careful, then. Don't burn anything."

With a 'humph', the Hargreaves daughter left the room, but there was a happy twinkle in her eye. After she had left, Cain looked up. "Riff!"

The butler was almost instantly at the door with a familiar smile. "Yes, Master Cain?"

"Please keep an eye on Merryweather…"

"Because of her playing with fire to make her little brew?"

"No…because those plants are real. With real effects. Mind the red flower. If she manages to powder it and inhale it, it'll put her to trance."

Riff stared. "…and here I thought they were wayside blossoms…"

Cain shook his head and sat down, deep in thought. "African herbs and Asian berries don't grow by the wayside…" he murmured. "They're potion and poison plants…"

"If they are real, then hadn't I better take them away from Miss Merryweather at once?" Riff asked, looking concerned as he glanced out the window where Merryweather had taken a small cooking pot and putting it over a circle of rocks she would use as a 'furnace'.

"No. Those flowers aren't particularly dangerous, though particularly effective. And I doubt Merry will prepare them correctly…" He sank into thought again. After a long pause, he added, "…a witch, eh? Maybe it has something to do with the rumors in town…?"

Riff looked up. "You've heard about it too?"

"Very little, in truth. As I've heard from the town, a woman had been stealing away men, seducing them away from their wives. This would've been completely uninteresting gossip if the husbands didn't turn up dead a night after they are found missing. But that's about all I know. Do you know any more?" he glanced at Riff.

"As a matter of fact, the servants have been feeding each other gossip and rumor of it daily…" Riff responded.

Cain gave him a flat look. "Why am I not surprised?"

"From what I gather, this all happens at the riverside area. It's not a witch, master—they say it's a naiad. A river nymph. Men would be lured into the forest at night—moved inexplicably. The victims were seen following a specter of a woman through the deep woods, and then in the morning, they would be found dead in the river. "

"Drowned?"

"No… poisoned. They were dead before they were left in the river. They say that the naiad must be quite a temptress—so far, the body count is eight."

Cain stared. "Eight…? I had last heard seven. And the police?"

"Inspectors were sent but…whenever they came back, they could never remember anything," Riff murmured. "Certainly odd." He paused. "Do you think Julianna may have something to do with it?"

"Well she does seem the likely suspect, doesn't she…? Irregardless. If the murderer deals with poison," and here he smirked and picked up his staff. "I'd like to pit our abilities against each other, then."

* * *

"Hey brother? Can I go visit Julianna again today? I told her I would bring her some nice things to eat." Merryweather was looking up at him appealingly from where she was hanging over the sofa armrest. 

Cain looked up at her from where he was picking up his coat. "When? Today?"

"Of course. Can I?"

He paused. "…nice things to eat?"

"You see… I've been in her house… I didn't really see much food. She's a very poor person you know. She spends all her time taking care of her plants that she doesn't attend to other matters. It's her obsession." Merry laughed.

"All right then." Cain nodded after a moment's consideration.

"Where are you going, brother?"

Cain paused and glanced at the table on which the morning paper was. Another life had been taken by the river nymph. It was a young aristocrat named Godfrey Bowles. With the murder of an aristocrat, high society thundered at the police's door and the rumor now flew from mouth to mouth as though it were alive. "I'm going to the funeral." Godfrey was an acquaintance of Cain's.

"Oh, this is about the nymph, right?" Merry animated herself again. "I've heard of her. Julianna says that the nymph mustn't be real. Nymphs don't lure people. Sirens do."

"Oh, and a siren is most certainly a more probable explanation…" Cain smirked. He received a raspberry, but his sister went to hug him at the door.

"Thanks for letting me go," she said with a bright smile. "I really like her. You should meet her!"

"You know what?" Cain said as he slipped on his coat with Riff's help, "I think I will."

* * *

Man, that chap sucked. Still, I'm working on it. Ahehehhh… Also, there is a significance to the title that might be made clear in the next chapter. I'm not too sure because I'm not good with languages, but it's Latin for two things. Please review… :) 


	2. Garden

**Disclaimer: **(holds up signboard) I wish I owned God Child. But I don't.

**Author's Notes: **Chapter two up! (happy dance) Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be ignored. And please read and review—reviews make me very happy. :)

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_**Inficio**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_God Child Fanfiction_

_By: Hypnotic Prism_

* * *

Cain stayed at the funeral only until he had heard all that he needed to hear. Besides the fact that the people were raving about this news of an evil nymph stealing men and killing them, he heard that Godfrey had been staying at their manor overlooking the river when he had apparently leapt down two stories off his balcony and wandered into the forest where he was last seen alive. They found him in the morning, a floating corpse in the river, with fishes swimming around him curiously. 

So there was really nothing there that Cain did not already know about. Or so he thought. He had a look at the body and saw something unusual. Apparently, no matter how hard the undertaker tried, he could not completely cover up the ravage done to Godfrey's face and neck. His lips were terrifying blue black—as though they rotted away—and veins from his mouth, over his jaw, down to his neck and wrists, had been of the same color, like so many roots.

Cain stared for as long as he could, and then he left, mulling this over. Riff watched him in the carriage. "What do you think, Master Cain?"

"He obviously ingested something venomous…" Cain said in deep consideration. "His mouth…no amount of makeup could cover it up. And his veins… He took in something that corroded his whole circulatory system."

"A poisonous plant, or an animal poison, you think?"

"That was my first idea, seeing that it all happened in the forest and by the river, but that effect was too strong. He must've died almost instantly. No simple poison could do that… It must've been a mix. This was done on purpose."

He looked up now. "However, it wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion while we know so little. And seeing that Merryweather has an interesting friend…why not let's ask her about it?"

Riff blinked, and nodded. Cain brooded out the window on the way to where Merryweather was, until the scenery caught him. It was further out the town than he thought. They passed green and yellow rushes down a dirt path, and he saw the long winding river a hundred yards off, bordered by a fearsome guard of the forest trees. The river soon vanished into the growth, and Cain turned to the other side to see what Merryweather meant.

Under the biggest willow he'd ever seen—albeit the most gnarled and strange-looking—was a small cottage. Cottage was kind word for it, as the little one-storey dwelling was little more than a hut. The thatch roof was dilapidated, aged yellow and the walls were only painted in whitewash, and one could see the sloppy bricking in some places. From the wood windows flew faded yellow curtains. But the striking thing about it was the garden. It was twice the length of the house in every direction, bordered by a crude wood fence which had also been whitewashed, but a spectacular variety of plants greeted the onlooker like so many soldiers of an army. Within the fence was a giant black cauldron simmering over a fire, and from there he could see the little figure of Merryweather peeking excitedly in.

Cain smiled. This was the place.

He stepped out of the carriage to get a better look of the place. The willow looked like a giant umbrella over the old cottage. He walked up to the fence—a little taller than his knees—and pushed open the gate. He stared at all the plants, in a mix of amazement. How all these plants could grow here was amazing. They were all over the place, and some of them were extremely rare. His gaze darkened as he saw one area of the plot where he saw some of the deadliest poison plants he knew, raw and ready to be harvested. This garden was both a wonder and a danger, and began to consider if it would be wise to let Merryweather return.

Merryweather looked up as he came in, looking delighted. "You came!" she exclaimed, waving, making Cain smile.

And at this moment, a figure he did not even see—so blended to the earth and plants—got up from where it was hunched over, picking plants. Dressed in a dingy, soiled brown dress, a dirty apron and a milkmaid bonnet as brown as the earth and stained with plants, was a girl. Her hands were covered in earth and leaf stains, and she had a wicker basket at one elbow.

Cain had jumped when she moved. "Pardon, miss—I did not see you there."

If anything, she was more stunned—as well as somehow scandalized—to see him. "Do you always enter so boldly into residences, sir?" she said, once she had gotten her wits back.

She was Irish—and couldn't have been older than he was. He shook his head. "Pardon again. I came for my sister Merryweather."

She stared all the more. "So _you_ are the brother she speaks of?" And here he had to wonder why she said that so incredulously.

Merryweather came bounding up to him and hugged him. "Brother, I'm glad you came! This is Julianna—the one I told you about! Julianna, this is my brother Cain."

Cain stared at her, and then at the earth-decked girl, who stared back at him with a strange dark look in her eyes. Perhaps now was not the time to mention that he imagined that Julianna was an old hunched crone. Perhaps she knew what he was thinking, because she seemed to get slightly annoyed, "Why do you stare at me?"

"No reason…" he looked at Merryweather. "What have you been up to?"

"She's been teaching me how to make perfume," she grinned. "It's really nice!" she jutted a wrist right up to his nose and the strong sweet scent wafted into his nostrils. His eyes widened slightly. "Misselin?" he murmured before he could stop himself.

Julianna's eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. "You have a good sense for it…" she said before turning away and heading for the pot. "You are fond of brews, Count?"

"Poisons, miss. But I'm sure Merry's already told you." He raised an eyebrow as he felt slight irritation rise. She was obviously making no effort at all to even try and be hospitable. Her voice remained flat and almost rehearsed.

"So I hear…" she said. She stirred the pot—looking for all the world like the haughty old crone that Cain imagined her to be—and waved a hand to Merry absently. "Merryweather, would you be so kind as to see if there is madder inside the house? I need it for this one."

"Oh! Of course!" Merry hopped forward, obviously liking being inside the house by the way she glanced so curiously at it. "Brother, come see!"

"Merry…" Cain stared at her as he took a few steps forward, and Merry vanished into the rickety doorway. There was a moment of silence and then Julianna lowered the stick and wiped her hands on the apron before going up to him. "Some tea, Count?" she asked. "'Tis all I have for now."

"Oh—there's no need to—"

"Please—your sister has already invited you in." She stared at him with that steady dark gaze that was, more than anything, a cage of hate. But he had no idea why this would be so. Turning away from the gaze, he affected his usual composure. "I suppose so."

He headed for the house with her leading. He asked, "Has Merry been imposing?"

"Not at all—your sister is very…eager to learn." She paused. "…her psychic powers are too strong."

Cain looked up. "You know?"

She glanced at him sideways. "How could I not? Am I not a witch?"

Cain smirked. "You seem proud of that fact."

"I am what I am—same as you are you. You are an infamous count. Yet you don't care either. You, count, are more entangled than I, who stays out of society."

"So you really _are_ a witch…" Cain smirked.

"Sometimes. One cannot live on witching alone." She motioned to clothesline, and Cain looked to it, and nearly laughed. On the clothesline were rows of sheets and cloaks all drying in the wind, their colors deeply stained to the fabric. And Cain realized what a good number of the plants and the pot were for.

"You're a dyer," he said, eyeing her red-stained hands.

"It keeps me from starving. Some women from town come to me with cloths or threads, and I dye them. Or sometimes I weave with what I've dyed and sell it in town." She said this flatly, with no attempt to gain sympathy whatsoever. In fact, she seems to almost resent this fact—and that resentment was turned to him. Was it perhaps because he and Merry lived their lives in luxury?

"You have taken offense—for Merry bringing you food," he said bluntly.

"Why should I be? I'm grateful to her."

Cain felt irritation rise again. There was simply no understanding this girl. He strode after her into the house where he was greeted by a surprising sight.

The walls were naked and unpainted, covered with shelves. A big table was in the middle for preparing food, probably, but in this case, it was covered in roots, petals, stems, leaves and every part of an herb or flower conceivable. Some were meticulously arranged, dried and ready for use while others are still in a haphazard pile. On the shelves around the room were countless books of worn covers and yellowed pages, and under them were hundreds of multicolored bottles, all filled with all sorts of liquid and powder. Still others contained some specimens like frogs and other animal parts.

At the table, Merry was picking out dried madder roots and laying them out. She looked up and waved at them. "I got the roots, Julianna!"

"You have a fine memory for this sort of thing, Merryweather…" Julianna gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I'll make you both tea."

Cain would have moved against it—it was highly doubtful that they should remain in her company for much longer, but Merry was too happy to notice anything. And if he didn't know any better, he'd swear that Julianna was actually more civil to Merry than she was to him—which might not have been too far from the truth at all.

"Don't you find it lonely living here by yourself?" Merry inquired as the tea arrived. The dirt-streaked girl did not glance at her as she replied, "This home is enough for just one—I have no complaints. And you? Do you not find it lonely in such a massive house? Full of empty rooms and bad memories?"

Cain was correct in assuming that the question was more pointed at him than at the little girl next to him. Julianna had glanced at him for the barest fraction of a moment before turning back to the herbs she was arranging on the table. She obviously must know more than she let on, and seemed to be using it at some sort of subtle attack.

Merry would have answered, but Cain replied, "Well we do have each other for company, at the very least. And the senseless social parties… You would seem to have a lot of time on your hands, miss, living on your own."

"I don't spend my time in leisure, if that's what you're trying to say…" Julianna set down a jar of frog eyes.

"I have no doubt you do. And in the matter of your work, I remember that I came here originally to ask you something."

Julianna stopped and glanced at him. "What would that be?"

Merryweather eyed her brother apprehensively all throughout this exchange. She could now sense the growing tension between the two of them. They clearly had no liking for one another, and/or they were trying to match wits in a game, challenging each other and seeing who would take the bait. _Why_ they had to do this, she had no idea.

Cain did not break from the steely gaze. "The people who have been found in the river. The river couldn't be more than half a mile down the road from here. For sure, you've heard of it. They died of poison."

Julianna opened her mouth to speak but Cain interrupted. "I didn't come to accuse you. I came to ask if you knew what kind of poison might have killed them."

There was a terse pause that followed this. Merry's eye twitched as she stared at her brother.

The girl looked sufficiently awkward before she had managed to speak again, and replied, "I'd have thought you can do that on your own."

Cain's gaze was one of challenge. "It never hurts to get a second opinion."

* * *

"What _were_ you trying to do there, brother?" Merry asked Cain the moment they were on their way home. "I should think you might have offended her…" 

"Might? I don't mean to sound childish, Merry, but she rather began it all." Cain rolled his eyes and leaned on the window, going deep in thought. _A witch in the woods… And half a mile from the river… It sounds too easy…_

"Well…she _did_ seem to act differently around you," Merry supplied, fidgeting. "I can't imagine for the world why not. I suppose she doesn't get very many male visitors, maybe? She had said she used to live with her mother in that house. She hadn't a father."

"Could have fooled me—she could've passed for a boy."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I asked if you intended to go back sometime."

Merry blinked up at him, puzzled. "Perhaps. Why?"

Cain said nothing and kept frowning out the window. _Too easy. Especially if she would have some sort of grudge against men… But there has got to be a bigger motive besides that… Why so suddenly? And how could she have killed able bodied men so easily?_

He lifted a glass vial to eye level. In it was a sample of flesh he had retrieved, corroded black with poison. It had to be examined, and the poison determined. It seemed familiar in its components at any rate. He should be able to determine what it was soon.

Too many unanswered questions were still in the air. There had to be something missing. There was still something else to consider before making any drastic assumptions.

Cain then looked up. He decided that he was going to have to pay a visit to the river.

* * *

The case _does_ seem too easy, doesn't it? But come on—it's only chapter two! Thing's will take a turn the next chapter. Please review! Reviews keep writers happy! 


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